Significance, it seems, is one of the most important things in life. Most of history is about making our lives - both as individuals and as a community - significant in some way. It might be by creating grand monuments to something vague and implausible. It might be changing the social climate of a city, a nation, a continent. It could be liberation. It could be enslavement. Good or bad, people make their marks on history, thus bestowing themselves the highest honour of all - being necessary. Funny that, isn't it? Funny how we can spend our entire lives trying to make it so that people remember us when we're dead. Spending our life ensuring our death is taken care of.
Eff Seven has had a little bit of significance allowed of it this week. So many people have come to me, emailed me, commented on this very blog. I want to thank you all for taking the time to read my blog. It's not much (or at least I don't think it is) but it's how I'm going to begin making my life significant - by gingerly treading in areas that I don't really have any right to tread. I'm hardly Socrates, and nor is journalism a particular major of mine. But I'm learning. I'm building myself something.
Maybe, in years to come, people will look back on this site in some boring, flaccid documentary of my life on some run-down TV channel. "From these humble beginnings," they'll say, "Grew the career of one of the nation's greatest..." and then my imaginings draw a blank, having reached a barrier of dreaming that can't be overcome by mere hope.
Then again, perhaps nothing will come of this. Perhaps in years to come I'll look back on this boring, flaccid site and wonder what I was trying to achieve. I'll look at my humble beginnings, and wonder what part they played in getting me to whatever average life I lead then and there.
Significance is a funny thing. So necessary, so important. Without significance, our lives seem somehow insignificant.
I'll soldier on, either way. My foundations must build something. Nothing is ever risked in vain. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He who never makes mistakes never makes discoveries.
This article seems somehow defunct - you might even say obtuse, if you were unsure what the word meant. But I will post it quietly on some dreary Sunday morning, a monument to something vague and implausible - the readers I never thought I had. And then maybe that will share any significance I have with you? Because by making me feel wanted, you've made yourselves needed, too.
I'm not planning my funeral yet. Life's enough stress as it is.
